


weighing your options silent

by palateens



Series: highways and bi-ways [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Dysphoria, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Misgendering, Sharing Clothes, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character, Transitioning, Transphobia, gun mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 09:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14808368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Someday they might have a normal life like everyone else. For now, they have this kiss and twenty minutes every morning.It has to be enough.





	weighing your options silent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Piehead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piehead/gifts).



> this is for a really awesome friend of mine who inspired this series and motivates me to keep sharing stories like this every day. You're the best <333

2013 

 

Mornings are Steven Bittle’s favorite part of the day. He’s always been an early riser. Something about the sunrise and the crisp chill in the air as a thick fog rolls through Madison is soothing to him. The whole world is still waking up, he’s got the entire day in front of him. 

Nothing’s been set in stone. No one is forcing him to go somewhere, do something, or be someone he isn’t. 

Steven gets a cup of coffee and twenty minutes between the time Richard gets up and the time Dicky gets up. Twenty minutes of alone time with his husband, twenty minutes to just be himself.

He rolls out of bed at five thirty, after the first alarm goes off. Steven reaches over to peck Richard on the cheek. 

“C’mon, I’ll start the pot but you need to take the first shower,” Steven says. 

Richard grumbles, reaching out for him. He catches Steven and pulls him into his chest. Steven chuckles. 

“Richard, we don’t have time,” he says softly. 

“School doesn’t start until eight,” Richard mumbles. 

Steven shakes his head, pushing away from his husband. He rolls out of bed lazily, picking up a dirty shirt off the floor to wear. He sleeps mostly naked these days. He and Richard fall asleep in their boxer briefs, cuddling for warmth when it isn't muggy out. It’s nice having their bedroom as a quiet little sanctuary away from the rest of the world. 

The kitchen is dark and motionless when he walks in, tiredly switching on the lights and coffee machine out of habit. Steven keeps his eyes half closed as he picks out two mugs from the bottom shelf of the cabinet. A year ago he moved all of the “world’s best mom” mugs to a higher shelf that he can’t normally reach. It’s easier than throwing them out. Much easier than having to explain to his son why they had to go. Not when he isn't ready to risk that conversation and its fall out.

The coffee machine beeps moments later, singing softly along with the birds outside. Steven pours coffee as he hears Richard tip toeing behind him, trying to be subtle as he wraps his arms around Steven's waist. 

“Good morning, Mr. Bittle,” Steven says quietly. 

Richard hugs him tighter, kisses his ear.

“Morning, Mr. Bittle,” Richard says. “How's the most handsome man on Earth this morning?” 

“I don't know,” he says. “How are you?” 

Richard chuckles. “You can't catch me off guard like that twice, Stevie.”

Steven blushes. His heart always melts when Richard calls him Stevie. It sounds as comforting and nostalgic as Suzie without any of the dysphoria and baggage that comes with his birth name. He read somewhere recently that people like him sometimes call them death names. But it doesn't work for him. It's not a word he can bury six feet under like a curse or his racist uncle Lou. It's a mask he has to put on every single morning when he walks out the door. It's something he'll probably deal with in one way or another for the rest of his life. 

Calling it a dead name would just disappoint him every time he hears someone call him Suzanne. He sighs, smiling wryly for his husband. 

“I can try,” Steven says. 

Steven turns toward Richard. He's thrown off when Richard kisses him again, more firmly this time. 

“You turn those gears in your head too much and you're likely to wear them out faster,” Richard jokes lightly. 

Steven hums, crossing his arms. “Good thing you have plenty to spare.” 

Richard laughs as he turns on the stove and grabs ingredients for omelettes. 

“You wound me, Stevie.” 

“I just mean you're the smartest man I know,” Steven says as he sets their coffee on the table.

“Only because you don't know my husband like I do.” 

“Is that so?” Steven asks indulgently. “Tell me about him.”

“I'm sure you know accountants are notoriously dull,” Richard says. 

He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Everyone knows that.”

“Oh but he isn't. He's what they used to call a Renaissance man. Any information he can get his hands on, he learns it forwards and backwards.”

“Really?”

“Yea,” Richard says with a grin. “He took Italian in college. To this day, he drags me at least once a month to this little cafe in the city so he can practice with the owners.”

“That seems like an awful lot of effort for a pointless skill,” Steven grumbles. 

“It is, but he's a romantic.” 

He eyes Richard curiously. “How so?” 

“Well for one, he always pays and orders me dessert—”   

“How chivalrous,” he says sarcastically. 

“—for another, I know he's never given up hope of moving to Italy.”

Steven sighs. “Richard—” 

“He's going to be a big painter one day,” Richard says. 

“ _ Was _ ,” he corrects him.

“No, I know for a fact it’ll happen... eventually.” 

Steven shakes his head. He opens his mouth to protest. His gut reaction is to argue that it's a pipe dream and there's nothing left for him to do but grow old and die quietly. But... _ but _

He thought he was going to die being someone he's not, and he's already proven that wrong. He thought if he ever admitted to being different, his husband would leave him. Love isn't everything. But Richard's undying devotion makes him believe a little more in miracles every day. 

Steven smiles into his mug of coffee. “What did I do to find someone as good and loving as you?”

Richard hums as he plates the food. He them to the table like he does every morning. He kisses Steven's head as he puts a plate in front of him.

“Nothing other than being your wonderful self,” Richard murmurs.

They get through a few bites of their food when Dicky comes trudging into the kitchen. He groans tiredly.

“Morning to you too, Junior,” Richard teases.

Dicky glares at him before slouching against Steven’s shoulder. He wordlessly reaches for Steven's coffee mug. Steven rolls his eyes as he hands it over to Dicky. 

“Thank you,” Dicky mumurs tiredly into Steven's head.

“Why don't you make your own coffee?” Richard asks.

“Why don't I get coffee like you do?” Dicky counters grumpily. 

“Because he makes breakfast, and he isn't seventeen drinking three cups of coffee a day,” Steven says. 

“Mama,” Dicky groans. “Tell Daddy that's not fair.”

Steven does his best not to flinch. He's right, it isn't fair. It isn't fair that simple word that is supposed to be affectionate from his son to him is tainted. It isn't fair that he can't get a haircut today, top surgery tomorrow, and call it good. It isn't fair that they'll have to move away as soon as he comes out. A lot of things aren't fair. But his son can live without an entire cup of coffee first thing in the morning.

“Maybe if you woke up earlier, we'd make coffee for you too,” Richard says. 

He feels Richard squeeze his knee underneath the table. It helps. Not a lot, but enough to help him breathe properly. LIfe, gender, and just about everything is as confusing as ever these days. At least Steven isn’t alone. Richard looks as confused as he feels most of the time. But they’re a team. They’re stronger when they talk things out together. 

Later, Richard stops him before they walk out the door. 

“Have a good day at work, Stevie,” he murmurs into his ear.

They kiss for a long moment before Dicky honks the horn of Richard’s car. Just like that, the moment is gone. The morning is over. Steven has to face the world with a tight smile and makeup he wears like a mask, like his birth name. 

His day will be long and tedious. He’ll come up with at least three reasons to quit throughout the day and talk himself out of quitting at five. He’ll come home to Dicky chatting with Richard as he helps Richard make dinner. He’ll take off his makeup and pretend he didn't spend his day acting like “one of the girls” for his co-workers. 

When Dicky goes up to his room for the night, Steven and Richard will unwind and watch cable until they start making out like teenagers. Because some things never get old.

Someday they might have a normal life like everyone else. For now, they have this kiss and twenty minutes every morning. 

It has to be enough. 

_/.\\_ 

 

2011 

 

The conversations start out slow. Despite Richard being as supportive as physically possible, he has questions. Questions like “when did you realize?” and “what should I call you instead?” Questions that Steven honestly doesn’t have answers for at first, and make him overwhelmed enough to cry. 

It’s Richard who comes up with his new name. It starts one morning while they’re drinking coffee. 

“I’ll miss calling you Suzie,” Richard says.

“You can still call me that in public,” he says. 

Richard shakes his head. “No, that was my special nickname just for you.” 

Richard gets up, pecking him on the cheek as he takes their plates to the sink. 

“Guess you’ll have to come up with a different nickname for me,” he says with a small, bittersweet grin. 

“I’ll find something,” Richard says. 

“I have no doubt you will.” 

Richard comes home a few days later with four baby name books and a determined look on his face. 

“We’re gonna find you the best name possible,” Richard says. 

It takes them until the S section to come by anything decent. It makes sense. He grew up with the name Suzanne. Like it or not, it’s something he’s used to...something comfortable like an old sock that’s worn out its usefulness. 

“ _ Steven _ ,” Richard says softly. “How’s that?” 

He looks up from the book in front of him. It’s not an amazing epiphany that hits him like lightning. It’s not grand or unique like some of the gay men he met during Pride. It’s...nice, normal. He’s never pretended to be bigger than life made him out to be so he’s never wanted a name or lifestyle bigger than what he could handle. Steven fits, he thinks. Like a glove before the first frost of the year.

“Say it again,” he whispers. 

“Steven,” Richard says. 

“Steven Phelps Bittle,” he says. “How does that sound?”

“Like you’re missing a middle name,” Richard says. 

He waves Richard off. “I don’t need one of those.”

“If you says so Stevie,” Richard says offhandedly. 

They both freeze, staring at each other cautiously. He remembers being twenty two and rough-housing with his new husband. Steven wishes he could take those years back. Recover those quiet moments with Richard that felt like magic. Maybe they still were. Maybe they just needed to make new ones. 

“I like it,” Steven says, scooting closer to Richard. 

He closes the book in Richard’s lap, replacing it with his hands as they lace with Richard’s. 

Richard caresses Steven’s jaw with his thumb. He watches Steven like he’s seeing him for the first time. It’s the way he looked on their wedding day, but better because he knows Richard can see the real him. 

“I love you, Stevie,” Richard says. “With every fiber of my being, I love you to hell and back.” 

Steven laughs, wiping a tear away from his own cheek. Richard talks like it’s all so easy. Like he could just go to a doctor tomorrow, start taking hormones, and be his best self on the outside. He can’t. They know that. Their town isn’t ready for trans men, for one. And there’s Dicky’s well being to consider. He’s already been through enough as figure skater. He didn’t even get to keep the one hobby he loved, taking hockey as a consolation prize. 

“I love you too, Richard,” he says because out of every confusing and shitty thing on earth, he knows this one thing to be true. “I will always love you with every fiber of my being.”

They sound like wedding vows. Promises made in the dark of their living room that are too intimate, too tender, to be said in front of his mama and the world. He thinks this is appropriate, apt. Maybe someday he’ll want to be out to the world. Maybe someday hiding his identity behind closed doors won’t be enough. 

But for today, it’s all raw and uncertain. His name is Steven Bittle. He’s still getting used to that. 

_/.\\_ 

 

2013 

 

They drive Dicky up to Samwell together. Richard insists on coming along, training camp be damned. Steven wonders how much longer will Richard stay in that job. Every year there’s more his has to complain about—the narrow-minded administration, the lack of care for anything beyond how many wins they get, and the number of players that need a shoulder to cry on or a place to sleep when they realized they’re not who their parents wanted them to be. 

Football is the last thing on everyone’s mind as the cross the state line into Virgina. The welcome sign reads “Virginia is for Lovers.” It puts a grin on Steven’s face as he reaches over the console to squeeze Richard’s hand. He knows they’re not the kind of lovers a place like this probably has in mind. But it’s nice to dream.      

They stop for the night at a cheap B&B outside of D.C. Dicky gets his own room so they have the night to themselves. Richard opens the luggage he packed for them, tossing Steven his strap on. 

Steven laughs. “You planned this?” 

Richard shrugs. “Figured this was a good chance to be heathens.”

“Our son is in the next room,” he hisses. 

“We’ll be quite,” Richard says. “Plus he’s eighteen, Stevie. Not eight. He won’t be scarred for life if he hears a peep...He’ll just hate us for a minute.” 

Steven rolls his eyes. “Alright, let’s see if this Virginia air does you any good, Mr. Bittle.” 

“It would be my honor, Mr. Bittle,” Richard says with a twinkle in his eye. 

Later on, Richard will eat him out, and then let Steven paint Richard’s toenails bright red. They’ll fall asleep naked watching the news and talking about what they’ll do as empty nesters. Tomorrow they’ll drop their baby off at college. 

Next week who knows where they’ll be. The entire world is in front of them and there’s nothing tying them to Georgia much longer. Steven takes Richard’s lips and ravages them with his, breathing every bit of love, excitement, and hesitancy that he can into this one kiss. 

 

_/.\\_ 

 

2012 

 

Steven buys his first binder. He never really understood his mother’s love of sewing so he never listened when she’d tell him how to measure body parts. As such, he ends up with a binder that is entirely too small. He doesn’t bother to finish putting it on when he can’t get it right past his shoulders. 

He calls his mama to ask how to measure busts and shoulders. 

“You know how to do that,” she says as soon as he asks.

“I forgot,” Steven says.     

“Why do you need measurements anyhow? You hate sewing,” she argues. 

Steven clenches his teeth. Curse his mama for knowing him. 

“I was just trying to get some online shopping done,” he says neutrally. 

His mama hums for a second before telling him to grab a notepad to jot what she says down. 

“I don’t want you forgetting again,” she says sternally. “I taught you how to do this because it’s an important life skill—”

“And you were right,” he says. 

“And I was right,” she says over him. 

It’s a horrifying long and unnecessarily graphic conversation. When Steven tells Judy about it on the phone later, she cackles for a whole minute. 

“Thanks, I appreciate your support,” he says sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry, I know it must’ve sucked, but you know I could’ve helped you right?” she asks. 

“You don’t know how to sew.” 

“Hello, queer person who cosplays,” Judy says. “Of course I do.” 

“Dammit, ok good to know,” Steven says. “I never want to hear how to measure a pelvis ever again.” 

“Sorry bro.”

“It’s...whatever,” he admits. 

It’s not great, but it isn’t the worst he’s prepared himself for as trans man in the closet. 

“How about we go shopping for packers sometime?” Judy offers. 

“No, that’s...ok,” he hesitates. “Is it bad that I’m not bottom dysphoria? At least, I haven’t been since I had Dicky.” 

“Not weird at all,” Judy says. “Everybody’s different.” 

“Yea, just give me a better voice, haircut, and get rid of this chest and I’ll be golden,” he says. 

“Hey, I’m not the one with a five year plan,” she reminds him. 

“You know why I have to wait.” 

“Yea, I do,” she says with a sigh. “And I think you aren’t giving your own son enough credit. But I get it. You do you.”

“It’s not about credit it’s,” he stops himself, taking a deep breath. “If I know something’s going to hurt my son, how could that possibly make me happy? He deserves a good high school experience, Judy. A normal family is the least I can give him.” 

“Normal’s for  _ straights _ but alright,” she says. “I’ll be here when you get on with your life.” 

“Your the best sister ever,” Steven tells her. 

He doesn’t know how he would’ve gotten through the last five years if it hadn’t been for her. Judy really is his best friend. 

“Thanks,” she says warmly. “You’re not a half bad brother yourself.” 

_/.\\_

 

2013 

 

Once they get all of the boxes into Dicky’s dorm room, Steven hugs the life out of him. He and Dicky hug for what feels like hours. They don’t let go, even when Richard tries to rub their backs in comfort. Even when Richard clears his throat. 

“We should get going if we want to return this car to the rental company on time,” Richard says. 

Steven nods, wiping a tear away from his eye as he squeezes Dicky one last time. 

“Remember to call us,” Steven says. “I will come back here with a shotgun if I think someone’s even laid a hair on you.” 

Dicky frowns, “Mama—”

“We both will,” Richard says as he puts a comforting hand on Steven’s shoulder. “You make sure to focus on your studies and your stick handling. We’ll be a phone call away if you need anything else.”   

Dicky grins, rubbing his eye as his face flushes bright red. 

“Ok,” Dicky says quietly. “I-I’ll miss you.” 

Steven’s about to start crying again when Richard crushes Dicky in a hug. They have their moment and Steven tries to soak in every second of it. They’ll never be like this again. It’s something worth remembering. 

They leave Dicky to unpack, wishing him luck on his season. They get get to the airport by dinner time. They split a pitcher of Sam Adams with their dinner. They get back to Madison around one am. He knows they’ll regret staying up so late in the morning. But they end up eating ice cream as they watch old recordings of  _ Queer Eye for the Straight Guy _ . 

Richard starts kissing Steven’s neck in the middle of the third episode. It devolves quickly into making out. Somehow, Steven complaining about his stupid hair lands them in the bathroom with Richard shaving his hair. 

When he’s done, Steven’s hair is as short as his. Shorter, most likely. Steven runs a hand through his hair as he stares at himself in the mirror. 

“What do you think?” Richard asks. 

“I think...our son is going to have a baby face forever,” he says. 

Richard jabs him in the ribs. “He looks like you, not the other way around.” 

Steven hums. “Guess you’re right. It...I look nice.” 

“You look  _ handsome _ , Stevie.”

Steven gets another look at himself. He looks great, masculine. That night he blows Richard until he’s coming dry. He falls asleep to the sound of Richard talking him up, saying he’s the most perfect husband ever. 

Steven knows that isn’t true but he lets it go. Richard can’t marry himself, afterall. 

 

_/.\\_ 

 

The second thing Steven does after they get back from dropping off Dicky is go into the city to so his doctor can adjust his testosterone dosage. Originally, he didn’t want to start hormone therapy until after Dicky left for school. But his physician explained that not much changes within the first three months of therapy whereas more happens starting at the four month mark. Which would mean that Dicky would’ve come back for Thanksgiving with Steven in the middle of an awkward stage of transitioning. 

Richard keeps telling him that it doesn’t matter. Dicky will love him no matter what. But it doesn’t seem right, throwing an entire life on his son without having all of his ducks in a row. Without being able to say “look, it’s working, this is what I want and it makes me happy.” 

His doctor doubles his dosage. On the way home, he buys more collared shirts. He drops them off at Judy’s so she can tailor them to fit over his binder well. He pays her back in blueberry muffins he baked that morning and recounting how the trip went. 

“This haircut really suits you,” Judy says as one point. 

“I think so too,” Steven says proudly.

“You think you’re gonna have a beard?” 

“Eventually, I hope,” he says. “Probably not for a while, though.” 

“Just promise me something.” 

“What?”

“You’ll let me dye your beard at next year’s Pride,” Judy says with a mischievous smirk.

He snorts. “If there’s anything to dye, I will absolutely let you.”  

Judy grins, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Good, now get out of here. I have a date coming over for dinner at six and I don’t want her meeting my overprotective brother on the first date.” 

“I’m not that bad,” he argues. 

“You threatened a shotgun on your son’s hockey team. I think that means you are,” she argues. 

“Fine, I’m going,” he says. “Just tell her I have a shotgun and I’m not afraid to use it if she hurts you.”

“You don’t even have one. You hate guns.”

He smirks, shrugging. “She doesn’t need to know that.” 

 

_/.\\_ 

 

“Am I wearing your shirt?” Steven asks one morning as he walks into the kitchen buttoning a short sleeved collared shirt with deer antler pattern smattered on it. 

Without Dicky, they don’t have to sneak around first thing in the morning. They’ve gotten notoriously bad at getting to work on time. Fortunately, they’re both as frugal with their vacation time as they are their money. So on mornings like this when they Richard’s team has an away game the next day and Steven can’t be bothered to trudge into work, they can make a weekend trip out of a lazy morning. 

Richard looks up from his phone. He stares at the shirt for a second before shrugging. 

“Does it bother you that our closets have merged into one supercloset?” Steven asks.

“Not at all, does it bother you?”

“No...I’m just surprised,” he says. “You used to have something against me borrowing your shirts.” 

“Because I never got them back and I couldn’t steal any of yours,” Richard argues. 

Steven chuckles. “True.”

The home phone rings. 

“Can you get—” Steven cuts himself off as his voice goes high for a second. “That?” 

Richard frowns. “What’s wrong?” 

Steven opens his mouth. “My voice just cracked.” 

Richard’s shoulders relax. “Is that it?”

“Yes!” Steven’s voice cracks again.

“Stevie, you’ve been doing that for weeks.”

“But it wasn’t this bad.” 

“Is it bad?” Richard says as he picks up the phone. 

Steven shakes his head. Not at all, he thinks. It’s wonderful. Despite the fact that he sounds like a fucking teenager, it makes everything feel more real. His face is thinning out a bit and his body hair is getting thicker. It’s everything he hoped for, coming along in increments. 

“It’s your mama asking if your free,” Richard tells him. 

“I guess,” he says with a shrug. 

He goes along with talking about this and that with his mother. She asks what he wants for his birthday. He’d almost forgotten about it. He’s turning forty three this year. He knows he probably should’ve mentioned something to her beyond going on a cruise with Richard for his birthday. Which he is true, but he neglected to mention it won’t be on his birthday and that it’s a gay cruise.      

Steven would love nothing more than to explain to his mother that all he wants for his birthday is for her to say that he’s a good son. That he makes her proud just by being him. 

He fake smiles because he knows it will help him fake a pleasant voice. 

“Oh I don’t need anything, mama,” he says. “Your love is gift enough for me.” 

Which is technically not a lie. 

She tsks. “Suzanne, don’t be dramatic,” she says. “What can I buy you?” 

Steven winces openly since she can’t see him. He runs a hand through the fringe on top of his head. 

“A new mixer would be great?” he says, trying to stop his voice from breaking.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. “You sound funny.” 

He clears his throat. “I’m just a little sick.” 

This seems to be good enough for his mother because she says, “Well make sure to take a lozenge and get plenty of rest.” 

“I will.” 

“And make sure to send me photos of your cruise,”she says. “When is it your leaving again?” 

“Tomorrow,” he lies. Because it’s easier this way. 

“And you’ll be gone for two months?” 

“That’s right.” It isn’t. 

“Be safe, sweetheart,” she says. “I’ll see you when you get home.” 

“Ok,” he says shakily. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” she says before hanging up. 

He hopes she’s right. That she loves him, and someday he’ll get home. 

 

_/.\\_ 

 

The good news is that Steven’s voice only gets deeper from there. The bad news is that there’s only about a week or two when he can lie to Dicky about being sick. His voice drops, and it drops for good. It’s a week or two before parents weekend. So he thinks he’s in the clear. It’s only a short bit of time, and then they’ll be up in Boston again. Then he can see his son and explain everything. 

Unfortunately, Richard has to pick of the slack when Bitty calls home. Steven tries to excuse himself to do the dishes or tosh a load into the laundry, but Richard wraps an arm around his shoulders before he can escape. Richard makes him sit there next to him on the couch while Dicky tells him about his week. He thanks them both for shipping his whisk to him. 

“Is Mama still sick?” Dicky asks when there’s a lull in the conversation. 

“Yep,” Richard says neutrally. “Something like that…”

“Oh, ok…”

“You don’t have to be worried, Junior.” 

“She’s been sick for weeks, Coach,” Dicky says. “I just...how can I not be worried?” 

Steven buries his head in his hands. He feels Richard rub his shoulder sympathetically. It helps, kinda. 

“I promise everything will be alright and we’ll see you at Parents’ Weekend,” he says. “ _ Both _ of us.” 

“You mean it?” Dicky says hesitantly. 

It breaks Steven’s heart. He sounds so much younger than eighteen. 

“You have my word,” Richard says. 

Steven hears Dicky weezing into the phone for a long moment. Eventually, he hears a sigh. He lets out his own breath, relieved that Dicky believes Richard. 

“So how’s your team looking this year?” Dicky says mechanically.

Richard leans further into the couch. “I think we might get as far as district, but that’s about it.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll go all the way next year.”

Richard clears his throat. “We’ll see. It might be time for me to hang up my jacket and whistle, and find something else to do.” 

The line is quiet for a moment. And then, “You mean it?” 

Steven nudges himself closer to Richard, tucking himself in his side so he can rake his hair affectionately. 

“Yea,” Richard says. “I’ll always love football and these kids. But I think it’s time I find a better use of my skills.” 

His voice is somber but there’s a twitch in his lips. Steven brushes away a tear from the corner of Richard’s eye. Football has meant the world to him. But the culture around it has done more harm to their family than good. 

“That sounds great, daddy,” Dicky says softly. “I’m really excited for you.” 

“Thank you, son,” he says. “I should...probably get started on dinner. We’ll see you in a week alright?”

“Ok,” Dicky says before hanging up. 

Steven wraps his arms around Richard after he puts the phone down. Richard clutches him tightly. 

“Thank you,” Steven whispers. 

“He’s so disappointed in me,” Richard says with a long suffering sigh. “I don’t know how to talk to him, Stevie. I can’t talk to him about sports. I can’t talk about grilling or being gay—” 

“I know,” he says. “But maybe...it’s time we learn more about hockey.”

Richard nods. “You think he’ll like the jerseys we bought?” 

Steven bites his lip, shrugging. 

“I hope so,” he says, knowing that they’re not really talking about the jerseys. 

They spend the rest of the night relatively quiet. They still put on the cable. They still shuffle into bed wearing nothing but their boxer briefs and frowns. They don’t talk about the elephant in the room because it’s so much bigger than either of them can handle right now. They toss and turn aimlessly for a few hours before Richard finally speaks up. 

“What if we lose him, Stevie?”

Steven chews on his lip, shurring in the dark. 

“Then I guess we failed him,” he says honestly. 

 

_/.\\_ 

 

Steven barely breathes the entire flight to Boston. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. He loses count of how many times he tries to rake his messy hair back or adjust the buttons on his shirt. He clenches Richard’s hand for most of the plane ride. And the drive to Samwell...and while Richard’s trying to park the car.

“We’ll be alright,” Richard says as he turns off the car. “He’s at a fancy progressive school for people like us. It’ll be fine.” 

Steven swallows thickly, nodding. “One in four, maybe more.”

“Definitely more,” Richard agrees quietly. 

Steven trails behind him as they cross the bridge from the suburbs toward Dicky’s dorm on campus. Someone that looks like a student is nice enough to let them in so they only text Dicky to let him know they’re on their way up. 

They stare at the door of Dicky’s suite longer than is probably acceptable. Steven takes a step back, leaning against the wall as Richard knocks on the door. He crosses his arms tightly against his chest, feeling vulnerable in a way he hasn’t experienced since he came out ot Richard two years ago. Only it’s so much worse. His skin is crawling as he tries to breathe normally. 

The door creaks open. Steven takes another step back. 

“Daddy,” Dicky says. “Where’s mama?” 

Richard hitches his thumb, pointing to Steven next to him. “He’s right here.” 

Steven feels his stomach drop. He hears Dicky say a quiet “what” before poking his head out into the hallway. 

He watches the moment Dicky sees him. He notices the way Dicky’s eyes grow wet, putting the pieces together most likely. 

“Hi, sweetie,” Steven says awkwardly, suddenly all too aware of how deep his voice is. He bites his lip. “I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

He’s cut off by Dicky hugging him tightly. He instinctively hugs back. 

“We look just like twins,” Dicky says with a sniffle. 

Steven hugs him tighter, trying to hold back sobs. 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how.” 

He feels Dicky nod. 

Richard clears his throat. “What your papa is trying to say, Dicky, is that we’re...we’re not straight. Not even close.” 

Dicky pulls away from Steven. He kisses Steven on the cheek before tackling Richard in his own hug. He watches Richard tear up, making it impossible for Steven to keep a dry eye. 

“That’s ok,” Dicky says quietly into Richard’s chest. “Neither am I.” 

**Author's Note:**

> fic title - lyrics from Toronto Mug by Slaughter Beach, Dog 
> 
>  
> 
> the next fic probably won't be out for a month or so, but I have the next two stories figured out. The next installment will be about Bitty's friends and life at Samwell after his dads come out to him.


End file.
